Free Corruption by Eden Winters Page B

bent knees and backside.
    Lucky wasn’t ready to embark on a live-in arrangement. He continued scrutinizing the house listing. The fenced yard would be a good place for a
    dog, and the garage even had a doggie door already installed.
    No! Lucky closed the e-mail. Bo shouldn’t even think about living together, knowing Lucky’s temper and foul moods. No way should they
    confine themselves to the same space until they’d figured out how to deal with each other’s baggage. Or their own.
    The squirming in Lucky’s gut turned to gnawing. He snatched up his jacket and headed out the door.
    A steady stream of folks entered and exited Bo’s apartment building. A smile and a blurted, “Forgot my key” gained him
    entrance from a woman he’d met before who probably thought he lived there. His ratty-ass jacket earned him a few stares. Let ‘em look.
    He smoothed his hand along a tear in the plastic-whatever-the-hell-you-called-leather-that-wasn’t-real-leather, missing the honest-to-goodness
    real stuff he’d worn a few days ago.
    Adrenaline coursed through his body, and he paced the elevator, chanting, “Hurry it up!” Finally the doors opened. He trotted to
    Bo’s apartment, listening for noises from within before knocking.
    Bo opened the door, eyes wide. “Hey. I’d almost given up on you coming. You about ready to go? I can’t tell you how glad I am
    that you’re going to help me house hunt.” No “About last night” or “insensitive prick” or
    “loser”, just “glad you’re here.” Lucky didn’t deserve Bo’s gratitude.
    “Why?”
    “Why does anyone look at houses, Lucky? I’ve talked things over with Walter, and when my probation ends I intend to stay with the SNB.
    That means permanence. I’ve always wanted my own home.” He paced to the couch for his jacket.
    Lucky often entertained notions of buying his own place, too, but preferred a cabin in the mountains, far from people. Damn the whole having to work for a
    living thing.
    Excitement tempered by a touch of wariness lurked in Bo’s eyes. “Why didn’t you answer my text?” Lucky ventured.
    Bo patted his pockets. His eyes went wide again. “Oh, shit! I must have left my phone in the truck. Why didn’t you e-mail or use the
    land line?”
    “Bo, I—” A knock sounded on the door. They both jumped and Lucky snapped his jaw shut on whatever lame words might have
    escaped his mouth. He’d fucked up. He’d well and truly fucked up, and now couldn’t find the necessary words to apologize.
    Bo opened the door. A young woman stood in the doorframe, hand raised to knock again. “Oh hi, Allison. You’re right on time. Are you
    ready?”
    “Umm…” she darted a troubled gaze at Lucky and back to Bo. “Did I come at a bad time?”
    “No ma’am,” Bo assured her. “My friend was…” he cocked his head to the side, a question in his
    eyes.
    “Um, on my way out the door,” Lucky said.
    Bo sighed, staring down at the floor. The two steps he took back might as well have been miles. “Okay, if you’re sure. See you at work
    on Monday.” One moment Lucky gazed at his lover’s forlorn face, the next at a closed door. First he recoiled at commitment in one way,
    then let Bo down when all the man wanted was Lucky’s company while finding a place to live. It wasn’t too much to ask. “What
    the fuck is wrong with me?” The image of Bo’s face the moment before the door slammed burned itself into Lucky’s brain. A
    haunted soul stared out of Bo’s eyes that Lucky hadn’t seen in nearly a year—the one who’d explained how someone so
    good could get tangled up in drugs, or why a grown man dreaded sleeping alone in a bed at night.
    And I did that to him. I should kick my own ass.
    ***
    Dear Charlotte,
    I screwed up. I mean really screwed up, as in “I wouldn’t blame him for not speaking to me” screwed up. What can I
     do?”
    Being a man of many names, Lucky never signed his messages anymore. He sent the e-mail and spent